


The original ending of The Make-Out Kings of Beacon Hills High

by Siriusstuff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, please read author's note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21779689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusstuff/pseuds/Siriusstuff
Summary: What the title says.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	The original ending of The Make-Out Kings of Beacon Hills High

**Author's Note:**

> As the title indicates, this is the original ending of [_The Make-Out Kings of Beacon Hills High_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14471532), which is a 5+1 fic that I posted in April 2018. This replaces the last part of the +1 section, after Stiles and Derek exit the screen house (marked by a double line break in the text.) Some of the same things happen as in the current ending, with some differences, but originally I'd written more, and the end doesn't come as abruptly.
> 
> At nearly 8K _The Make-Out Kings_ , etc., is probably my longest work. Considering my idea of plot structure is "first this happens, then this happens, then this happens, etc., etc., then this is the last thing that happens" that +1 section got to feeling too long, so I rewrote it in truncated form. But I kept what I'd originally written and since I know it exists, whenever I happen to re-read that fic the end always feels hasty and I wish I'd kept it as first written (because it really isn't _that_ much longer.) So here is the original end.

To their surprise they’ve been in the screen house long enough for a small crowd to have arrived, most around the pool. Just about to wise-crack, “Did they all arrive in one bus?” Stiles hears Jackson bellow, “WELL, IF IT ISN’T THE MAKEOUT KINGS OF BEACON HILLS HIGH!”

The only effect of Jackson’s exclamation is Derek’s cringing once again. Stiles just shrugs and responds with, “Whittemore, when two people love each other…”

Stiles would be hurrying past if it weren’t for what he’s seeing. Jackson’s brought a tall glass of something with a lime wedge garnish to Danny Mahealani, seated like royalty at one end of the pool deck. His dark glasses make him appear even more chill as he, after taking the drink from Jackson, tips his face toward him and says, “Babe, you didn’t bring me a napkin,” whereupon Jackson goes, “Oh!” and trots away to get one.

Danny’s got Jackson _trained._ —Stiles could laugh like a loon.

Boldly, knowing now’s his chance, he asks, “What _do_ you see in him?”

Casually Danny looks over his golden frames and answers, “Most of the time? My dick.”

On the farther long side of the pool Lydia sits flanked by two girls Stiles doesn’t recognize. It looks like the set of a photo shoot, featuring Lydia in glistening white sunhat with gold accents, sleek, black one piece swimsuit and on her pedicured feet, elegant gold-toned tongs that highlight the pearlescent green polish on her toenails and without doubt cost hundreds of bucks. All she needs is a frothy pastel cocktail to complete the fashion plate but instead Stiles is positive she’s shooting daggers at him behind her sunglasses.

He’d rather walk to his own execution and most likely he is as he approaches her with the lanyard.

“I am not touching that,” Lydia informs with precise enunciation. “Put it there.” She gestures to a little table by her seat. Stiles lays down the lanyard so it makes no sound and without a word backs away until he bumps into Derek.

“Let’s get our towels,” Derek mutters, “from the car.”

Escaping Lydia’s hidden glare, he whispers, “Why is she so mean?”

“She’s not mean,” Stiles assures. “She’s probably just establishing plausible deniability.”

This time Derek’s going to find out what the hell Stiles is talking about when happy squeals, “Derek! Stiles!” draw their eyes to the sight of Erica bounding their way. She’s got a badminton racket in one hand but that doesn’t stop her from hugging Derek tightly, pecking his cheek, and then Stiles’s.

“Hey, girl,” Stiles greets her, happening to notice how pink Derek’ ears have gone, and the little smudge left from Erica’s lips, scarlet as her bikini.

“Come play with us!” she cajoles. From the badminton net Boyd waves a hand through the air. He looks perfectly stunning in sunny yellow shorts and all his muscles on display.

“Ehh, Derek and I wanna get in the pool. We’re feelin’ the heat.—Maybe later?”

“’Feelin’ the heat’?” Derek teases as they near the Camaro.

“Don’t even,” Stiles retorts, parrying with, “You blushed when Erica hugged you. Why?—Cuz she smushed her boobs against you?”

“ _No_.”

Not till after he throws his clothes in and collects their towels from the car does Derek strike back.

“You said ‘when two people love each other’—Are you sayin’ you… _love_ me?” The last part he whispers though he can’t keep the smile from his face.

“Did not!” Derek thinks Stiles says, not sure because Stiles has muffled his face in his towel.

Derek can see Stiles’s ears flushing, a sight rare as a solar eclipse.

“Look who’s blushing now,” he needles, pleased and playful.

“’M not blushing. I sunburn easily!” Stiles is grinning too.

“Well,” Derek drawls, “I _lllluu_ … _like-like_ you too.”

“I _am_ irresistible,” Stiles beams.

Derek knows, they’re back by the pool so no further admissions of genuine affection will be forthcoming from his secretly sweet sweetheart—certainly not anywhere near Jackson, though Jackson, laid out in shorty, sky blue trunks on a beach towel, is oblivious, soaking up the rays, classic bathing beauty style.

Little clusters of people ring the pool. Scott McCall and Isaac Lahey sit side by side at the far end. They’re making heart eyes at each other while they swish their legs in the water.

Other than those limbs, nothing else is in the pool.

Scanning the placid, boring scene Stiles asks Derek, “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

They’ve been dating only months but Derek already believes he may never answer that particular question from Stiles with a “yes.”

“Just follow my lead.”

There are various floats still high and dry on the deck. Stiles picks up two, colored like pink frosted donuts with sprinkles.

Handing one to Derek he centers the other behind himself, so his butt’s in the hole, then turns his back to the pool and half-jumps, half-drops backwards, happy to see Derek doing the same at his side.

Their effort to land ass-first is a fail. Their double splash-down produces a mighty rebound, pitching both of them off their donuts, into the water.

But when they come up, wiping their faces and shaking water from their hair, it’s to see they’ve inspired others to jump in too. Suddenly a real pool party’s started.

Even Erica and Boyd, abandoning their badminton match, come running, holding hands as they double cannonball dive in with a monster splash.

In a minute Stiles and Derek will join the fun, but first they rapid-fire splash each other until they fall together laughing and breathless, jostled in the choppy waves.

Water’s flying everywhere. Stiles won’t look but Lydia’s probably already hulked out, giant and green, at the chaos crashing her soirée. Jackson’s definitely squawking as pool water rains down on him, but Stiles doesn’t care. He’s got Derek, slippery and giggling in his arms and everything’s perfect. He might even go so far as to believe their luck is changing for the better now, for the first time in more than a week, and whatever happens to them next, everything feels like a win.


End file.
